After the Dawn

by Francis Ray

  “I helped make this company!” he shouted. “I’m not doing anything more until Dillon is gone and you come to your senses. He can’t help this company.”

  Samantha picked up her pen. “Then this conversation is over. Please let yourself out.”

  “You’re going to lose.”

  “No, we won’t.” Tossing the pen aside, she came to her feet and moved around the desk. “Dillon designed an intercooler that will be fitted on a car for the Rowland Racing Team in the vintage racing this weekend in Vegas. When the car wins, the entire auto industry will take note.”

  “If,” he sneered.

  “You better hope it does.”

  “Why would I do that?” he asked, his sneer growing.

  “Because,” she said sweetly, “if Collins Industry has to make adjustments to keep going, guess whose paycheck will get cut first?”

  Horror and then anger chased across his face.

  “Good-bye, Uncle.” Samantha went behind her desk. “I know you wish us well this weekend.”

  “You—”

  “Was there something you wanted me to tell Dillon?”

  He strode from the room and slammed the door after him. Leaning back in her chair, Samantha smiled.

  * * *

  Early Thursday morning, Dillon positioned the intercooler in his BMW. It was the same model Carson would be driving. He tightened the bolts, then straightened. It was ready to test.

  “I’m not sure about you racing on the FM roads,” Marlene said from beside him, worry in her voice.

  “He knows what he’s doing, Marlene,” Roman said, his arm around her waist.

  Dillon had finally gotten used to seeing them that way. The happiness on his mother’s face, the way it lit up when Roman walked in the room, helped because he reacted the same way when he saw her. Last night, they had watched a movie at the house. “The real racing has twists and turns. It’s the closest I’m going to get without actually being on the highway.”

  “But the race is regulated. Don’t you dare push the car over ninety.”

  Cars in the vintage circuit didn’t reach the 220 mph of NASCAR, but they did reach 180 mph. He had to test the intercooler to see if it gave the car the power boost he hoped for. “It’s barely seven. The FM roads should be relatively empty.”

  She bit her lip. “I never liked you racing.”

  “There’s no other way, Mama.”

  She hugged him and stepped back. “Go test the thing before it gets much later.”

  He nodded to Roman then got behind the wheel, started the car, then backed out of the bay. He’d had one of his men bring the car down on a flatbed yesterday. He still had a thing about other people driving his car. His mind flashed to Sam asking if he wanted her to drive. He shut it down and pulled onto the street. Two minutes later, he hit the farm-to-market road. There wasn’t a car in sight.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  In three seconds, he’d hit 90. Five seconds later, he was flirting with 160. Then the car hit 180 with a burst of speed, the horses of the turbo roaring.

  Dillon grinned devilishly. The intercooler worked, keeping the motor cool and upping the power. It would allow Carson to kick butt and put Collins Industry out there. But even as the thought came, Dillon accepted that once that happened, he was leaving.

  His grin faded. So did the thrill he’d experienced earlier. He attributed it to leaving his mother and took the bridge over the highway to return to Elms Fork.

  Twelve

  Friday morning, Samantha and Dillon flew first class to Las Vegas. They sat side by side but barely acknowledged each other during the long flight. She was too aware of him and more than ready for the plane to land when they did. Once they had their luggage and the intercooler, a car took them to the Bellagio Hotel.

  “Here’s your key,” Dillon said, his first words since he’d picked her up at her home that morning.

  “Thank you.” She gripped the card in her hand.

  “I’m meeting Carson in an hour. Do you want to go with me or rest and order room service?”

  So he’d noticed that she hadn’t eaten on the flight. Neither had he. “Go with you.”

  For a moment his lips tightened. “Meet me here in thirty minutes.”

  Samantha watched him walk away. Despite the beautiful hotel and the very real possibility that they were going to pull Collins back from ruin, she felt tears sting her eyes. Dillon didn’t want her near him.

  * * *

  Resisting Sam was more difficult than Dillon had thought. Her soft fragrance had taunted and beckoned on the long flight. If that weren’t enough, sometimes she stared at him as if she wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him until his brain short-circuited. The brush of her thigh against his had been sheer torture. He wanted her, hot and naked.

  Seeing her waiting for him only heightened his need. She looked lost and lonely. He’d like nothing better than to take her into his arms, reassure her. But touching her wasn’t a good idea. He wanted her too badly. “I have a car.”

  He walked off, expecting her to follow. It wasn’t until he was several steps away that he sensed she wasn’t behind him. He glanced over his shoulder until the crowd parted enough for him to see her. She hadn’t moved. He didn’t have time to deal with this. He stared. She stared back.

  She was challenging him again. Well, this time she’d lose. He started for the entrance. So what if his steps were slow. There was no sense in rubbing his victory in her face. Outside the busy hotel, he saw the four-wheel-drive Jeep he’d rented. The keys had been delivered to his room, the papers signed. All he had to do was get in and drive away.

  He couldn’t get his feet to move. Damn.

  He started back inside. She still stood in the same spot, but now tears sparkled in her eyes. A fist clutched his heart.

  Seeing him, she turned away. He saw her arm go up, then she faced him. He realized she had wiped away her tears. Never let your opponent know you cried. So that’s what they had become. Opponents. His fault.

  “You haven’t even spoken to me. Said my name once. I don’t want us to be enemies.”

  He didn’t either. Staying away from her, ignoring her, had been his way of keeping his desire for her under control. Now, with hundreds of people surrounding them, the faint sounds of the gaming machines, his hunger strained to be freed and satiated. He longed to take them both back upstairs and love her until they were both spent. Perhaps then he’d stop thinking about her.

  “Dillon.”

  His name wobbled over berry-colored lips that he craved to press his against, bite, suck. She just wasn’t reacting to the way he was looking at her, but she wanted him as much. She simply controlled herself better, which annoyed the hell out of him. Before Sam, he’d prided himself on his restraint.

  His breath shuddered out. “Let’s go, Sam. Carson is waiting.”

  “Thank you for not leaving me.”

  He grunted. She smiled.

  Man, he’d like to taste her. All over. Starting with the nipples pressing against her white knit top. If she knew, she’d be mortified. “Come on.”

  He started from the lobby with her on his heels.

  * * *

  Samantha caught the excitement at the racetrack the moment she got out of the Jeep. There were trailers with awnings over cars, while other cars were in garages. The crowd was energized, laughing, talking.

  “This seems like fun.”

  “It is, but the teams take their racing seriously. Carson should be this way.”

  Samantha followed, trying to keep up while taking in the sights and sounds. The cars were amazing. She wouldn’t have known their make except for the name or symbols. Vintage meant just that, older-model cars in top condition and restored to their former glory. She whistled. “They must cost a mint.”

  “They do and are meticulously cared for.”

  Dillon turned into a garage where there were two cars and several people hovering over each. “
Hey, Carson. Ready to take the checkered flag?”

  A tall man straightened, his gorgeous olive-hued face breaking into a devilish smile. He stuck out his hand and he and Dillon gave each other a one-armed hug. “You know it.”

  “This will do it.” Dillon picked up the case he had put on the ground before greeting Carson. He held it out to his friend.

  Carson took the case, then looked at her. “Your partner?”

  “Samantha Collins, meet Carson Rowland.”

  The case in one hand, he extended the other to grasp hers gently. “Ms. Collins, glad to meet you.”

  She smiled back. “Thank you, Mr. Rowland.”

  He grinned lazily. “My pleasure.”

  He was probably almost as dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind as Dillon, and that was saying a lot. “Thank you for allowing Collins Industry the chance to test the intercooler on your car.”

  “Not without a price,” Dillon snapped, glaring at the both of them.

  Samantha frowned up at him. “What’s the matter now?”

  Laughing, Carson leaned over and then whispered loudly, “Guess he hasn’t had his fiber in a few days.”

  Samantha laughed before she could stop herself.

  “Very funny,” Dillon muttered.

  “I thought so.” Carson faced Dillon, his eyes serious. “Especially since we know each other so well.”

  Dillon’s arms slowly dropped to his sides. He glanced skyward.

  Carson clasped him on the shoulder. “Better you than me. Now, let’s get this on so I can see what it’s got.”

  Samantha watched the two go to the BMW. Carson opened the case and took out the top-mounted intercooler. She had no idea what had just gone on, but she sensed that whatever it was, the tension between them was now gone.

  Not wanting to get in the way, she stayed where she was. It had nothing to do with the nice view of Dillon’s backside, the flex and play of muscles as he lowered the intercooler into place. It was enough that Carson’s family was giving them a chance.

  “Sam, come here.”

  Surprised delight had her moving toward Dillon, who was bent under the hood. “Yes?”

  “I want you to see what we’re doing.” His gaze dropped to her hands. “No pad. You’ll have to remember.”

  “I will.” Once she got her mind off his hands roaming freely over her.

  He dove back under the hood. “Good, because like I said, I’m not sticking around once Collins is back on track. I agree with you, you need to learn all you can.”

  She crashed back to reality. Collins was all that could ever be between them. “So teach me.”

  * * *

  Marlene’s hands clenched on her handbag in her lap as Roman pulled into her driveway. All during dinner and then putt-putt, there had been this underlying sexual tension humming between them. Each touch fueled a desire for more.

  Before tonight, both knew Dillon was in the house. That had changed with Dillon in Las Vegas. Now, when she and Roman went inside, there was no need to pull back when they wanted to move forward, to search and explore each other at their leisure.

  Roman turned off the motor. Silence stretched between them. They’d made a habit of not listening to the radio so they could talk. “I guess there’s no need to honk.”

  “No,” Marlene said, trying to answer in the same playful vein as Roman. But as seconds ticked by and he didn’t move, she realized his thoughts were much like her own. Otherwise he would have opened her door by now. Tonight they didn’t have to stop at just kissing.

  Heat flushed her body, tightened her nipples. Embarrassed, she reached for the door handle.

  “I’ll get it.” Roman jumped out of the car.

  Marlene kept going. She didn’t want to make the same mistake of letting desire lead to heartache. She’d never regretted Dillon’s birth; her regret was the way he’d been conceived.

  The house key in her hand, she opened the front door. Soft light from the twin lamps in the entryway bathed the terrazzo floor. Just beyond, more light shone in the living room. She always left lights on when she went out if Dillon wasn’t there. She hadn’t needed Roman to remind her. The thought helped calm her nerves. Roman was always considerate of her. He wouldn’t push her. The problem was, she wasn’t sure of what she wanted.

  She pushed open the door, stepped inside, and glanced back. “Would you like to come in?”

  His hands came out of his pockets. She caught a glimpse of an unsure Roman. He’d always been so self-assured; it tipped the scales further in his favor. She didn’t think, she just walked into his waiting arms and put her lips to his, where she’d wanted them for the past hour.

  Her mind emptied, her body caught fire. Need surged through her. She let herself go and just enjoyed.

  Suddenly, she was pushed away. “I don’t want us to make love.”

  Consumed with a pulsating need, she was reaching for him until his words slammed into her. Shame hit her. All she could think of was getting away. Tears blinding her, she stumbled through the door, then shut and locked it behind her.

  “Marlene, wait! You don’t understand.”

  Pushing away from the door, she started toward her bedroom. The ringing of the doorbell and the banging followed her. She had been shameless. How could she ever face him again? And she’d have to. He hadn’t finished his audit for Dillon.

  Her head fell forward. She wouldn’t be able to face Dillon when he came home. He’d called, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. He’d promised to try her cell—

  Her thoughts stopped abruptly. Her cell phone was in her purse. Fate couldn’t be so cruel that she’d dropped it outside.

  Slowly, she went back to the front room, listening for the doorbell and looking for her handbag in front of the door. It wasn’t there. She crept to the window and checked for Roman’s car. The driveway was empty.

  She opened the front door and looked for her purse just outside the door on the porch and didn’t see it. Perhaps Roman had kicked it off the porch when he—

  “Looking for this?”

  Marlene’s gaze swung to Roman at the end of the porch. He was holding her handbag, a hard frown on his face. He had nothing to be pissed about. She fought the instinct to flee. Her greatest regret was pleading with A. J. to stay even after she’d learned he was married. She’d been so sure he’d loved her, and so wrong.

  No man would make her feel less again. “Yes.”

  Roman approached her with the look of a predator. For a second, she wished she had fled. She used bravado instead. “My handbag, please.”

  “Don’t you dare look at me and think of him,” he snapped.

  The angry reprimand caught her off guard. One thing she’d never planned to discuss was Dillon’s father. “Do I need to call the police?”

  He stepped to her, his jaw clenched, his face so close she could see her reflection in his eyes. “I’m trying, Marlene, to be patient with you, but you’re not making it easy.”

  “So take the hint and leave,” she snapped.

  “If I didn’t care about you, I would.” He blew out a breath, shoving his hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “This is my fault. I handled things wrong earlier.”

  She found she wasn’t as brave as she thought. She couldn’t stand there and carry on a conversation when all she wanted to do was crawl away in shame. She turned for the door. Roman caught her arm.

  “Let me go.” She hated that her voice trembled, hated that his touch still made her want. She’d learned nothing.

  “No, Dillon isn’t here to intercede for me, so I better talk fast. All I can think about when we’re together is making love to you, but you’re not ready,” he said. “Your running away from me tonight proves it. If we made love now, you’d start doubting me, comparing me to him even more than you do now.”

  His hand flexed on her arm. “Stop comparing me to him. Look at me and see me. Have I ever treated you with anything but respect? You’re a strong woman except when i
t comes to us. Trust me, but more importantly, trust yourself.”

  Marlene listened to his words. He was right. Deep down, she didn’t trust herself enough to trust a man. She’d grown up in foster care, dreaming of having a family, being loved. The betrayal had cut deeply. “I’d like to go inside.”

  “Only if I’m going with you,” he said, his hand sliding up her arm and turning her to him. “You’re a fighter. Fight for us.”

  She shook her head. The scars and hurt were too deep. She thought she could move forward. She’d been wrong.

  Perhaps if she had had a family to support her, friends to talk with, she might have been able to get over A. J., the betrayal, the shame. But she hadn’t. She’d been used, then scorned and pointed at and whispered about by the townspeople. She’d worked hard to gain their respect, for Dillon to be proud of her. She wasn’t about to take a chance and throw that away.

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “I am or I wouldn’t be standing here, aching for you, if I didn’t feel one day you’ll leave the past in the past and learn to trust again,” he said softly.

  “Roman, please just leave.”

  “No. I’m not going anyplace. We’re going inside and watch something on TV, or even better, maybe you’ll play for me.” He caught her other arm, turning her toward him. “When Dillon calls, you’ll happily tell him how you beat me at putt-putt. Because if he thinks you’re upset, race or not, he’ll be on the next plane out of Vegas and this time he’ll do more than wrinkle my shirt.”

  Stubborn as they came, and it was all she could do not to sink more fully against the warmth of his toned body. “Where is your car?”

  “Beside the house.”

  “Sneaky.”

  “You better believe it,” he said. His voice became unsteady. “You were crying, and it was my fault. I never wanted you to regret going out with me. I failed, but I’m not giving up.”

  He deserved as much honesty as she could give him. “I’m glad, but there might come a time when I get scared again.”

  “Then we’ll talk about whatever it is.” He pulled her more fully into his arms, his hand rubbing up and down her back, sending ripples of need in its wake. “I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to get you to listen.”